


Through the Lonely Throng

by ej_writer



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gay Billy Hargrove, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Sad Ending, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ej_writer/pseuds/ej_writer
Summary: A brief look into the tragedy that is Billy Hargrove’s life.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	Through the Lonely Throng

It’s impossible to sleep at night with so much noise. 

The woods in Hawkins are filled with it, and from his window in the white house at 5280 Cherry Lane, Billy Hargrove can hear every last screeching katydid and snapping branch, and the leaves rustling so loud when the wind blew. 

Things were so different back home in San Francisco, where the sounds of the night were distant and more like white noise. Then he could hear distant cars, their tires smooth on pavement, and the sounds of the ocean if he listened hard enough. He missed that more than anything. 

Indiana was so much more, suffocating. The noise overwhelmed him in a way the bustling city life of Cali never had, and he knew that didn’t make a whole lot of sense. But it did to him, in a city that was actually made up of more than middle of nowhere neighborhoods and a few corner stores, he had his room to breathe. There was freedom in having somewhere to hide. 

There used to be places to go when he couldn’t stand to be alone or when he needed to be, there was always an escape. He supposed that was why they moved here, so his father could keep better tabs on him, so he wouldn’t have the liberty he did in a developed city. 

Now in Hawkins, he was just stuck, all the time, nowhere to go but back home again. Every single day was the same old thing without anything to do, and it was wearing down on him. He missed the life he used to have, missed his friends and the distractions and his fucking mom. Indiana was the last place on earth he wanted to be. 

Everytime Billy thought there might be a silver lining, anything at all to look forward to, his hopes were shattered again like glass when you dropped it, only he never seemed to hit the ground. Constantly in a downward spiral since he’d stepped foot in this shithole town, his life had gotten so far out of his own control. 

He’d already done so many things he regretted, but the thing was, he felt like he’d been watching from the backseat as it happened. The isolation and torment of the new way he’d been forced to live was breaking him down piece by piece, and everyday he became more and more like his dear old dad. 

Staring out the window by his bed, a plume of smoke drifting up towards the twinkling stars from a cigarette between his fingers, he felt so, so uneasy. With himself, for all that he’d done, and the people he’d hurt, with his father, for uprooting him and putting him in this tiny box, deliberately bringing out the nastiest parts of his temper, and fucking Hawkins, for keeping him cornered and taking away everything he ever held dear. 

The tears on his cheeks weren’t a surprise, he’d always been a stupidly emotional person, no matter how tough he tried to be. His momma told him that meant he was strong, that any boy who wasn’t afraid to show his emotions was very brave. Look where that got him. 

Speaking of his momma, she’d been on his mind a lot lately. The idea that, had she not just drove off without him he wouldn’t be here now, it haunted him. He could’ve been happy, if she’d chosen him, chosen her baby over a life of freedom. She’d said once over the phone that she’d come back when he was older, that you couldn’t run fast enough with an eight year old, but that she wouldn’t forget him. 

There’s just a few months left until his eighteenth birthday, and he hasn’t heard a word from her since. 

So much for dreams of a dramatic rescue, for the hope that his mom would come back for him and swoop him away from the arms of his abuser. Tough shit, kid. 

Even if she had stayed, he knows in his heart things wouldn’t be any different. Except for maybe that Neil probably would’ve murdered the both of them by now if complacent little Susan hadn’t come along. Maria Hargrove was a fighter. Susan Mayfield took whatever was coming without complaint. Funny how he hated them both anyways. 

Sometimes he thinks about how they’re victims too, how not everything that happens is their fault, but then he remembers the look on his mother’s face as she walked out the front door for the last time, or the way Susan would ignore him when he was injured, going about her day, picking up dishes and folding laundry while he lay on the floor with boot shaped bruises up and down his body. Of his mother’s tone of voice when she picked up the phone after she abandoned her son, or the way Susan would inform on what he’d been doing no matter the consequence just to stay in good graces with her husband. 

Like hell did those women deserve it, but did he either? 

Was it fair that, since he was just eight years old, he’d been being beaten and battered and abused in every way by anyone and everyone who got close to him? Did the fact that Maria got hit a few times make it okay to subject her son to the daily torture he faces just for existing? Does Susan’s fear excuse turning a blind eye to what she knows her husband does behind closed doors? 

But does his own hurt make it okay to bully his step-sister and her friends? No, it doesn’t. 

His excuse is that he’s scared. 

Scared for Susan, as much as he hates to admit it, that one day Neil will get bored of beating him up and move on to his dainty little wife. Woman like her wouldn’t be able to take his punches, and if she couldn’t stand up for her step son, she definitely wouldn’t stand up for herself.

He’s scared for his friend Tommy, because he’s been seen spending too much time around him, and his dad is getting suspicious. Thinks that just because they hang around each other there must be something going on. Whether it was just regular teenagers up to no good or an accusation of queer shit, either would set his father off, and Tommy would be the target if they didn’t distance themselves a little.

And he’s scared for the Sinclair kid, because Neil has made it very clear that nothing good will come of Max hanging out with him. Billy’s kind of caught in the middle on that one, he doesn’t want Max to think he's the dickhead when his dad is, but he wants her to just keep her distance, be a little more cautious so something bad won’t happen. 

Back in California, he’d had a black friend in kindergarten, and as soon as he found out, Neil called the school and had his classes switched just because they’d been too young to get a beating for it. Lucas was fourteen, and if eight was old enough for his own flesh and blood, then that was good enough for Neil to lash out. But they were just rebellious teenagers with no concept of real world consequences, and they were going to get themselves killed. 

More than anything, he was scared for Max. He can tell she doesn’t really know what’s happening around her. Susan does her very best to shield her daughter from Neils rage, and that means not telling her about it at all or letting her see it. On Neil’s bad days, Max would still come home talking a mile a minute, pushing him over the edge to a violent fit that his son would have to face, and she’d be none the wiser. 

At first, it’d pissed Billy off that she could go home free so often, but by now the fact that she was completely blind to it scared him that one day, she’d be next. Just a few weeks ago he’d had to step into the middle of an argument between his father and step-sister, and got a split in his eyebrow so bad it still hadn’t healed. It was only a matter of time before he didn’t catch it in enough time, and Max’s little safety bubble would pop forever. 

But doing his best to keep all of them safe meant doing his worst, and he hated it. What choice did he have when he had to keep Max and Lucas separated and the target on Susan’s back small? How could he do that other than to be strong and mean and just like Neil?

Because, if he had a mean streak himself, that’d threaten his big bad dad, and he’d get his ass beat. Coming home wasted and making a scene, he’d get his ass beat. A call from the school or a concerned parent about that rowdy boy down on Cherry, and he’d get his ass beat. Wash rinse repeat. 

Be the worst Billy he could be, and Neil would take it out on him, not on Max who holds hands with black boys, or Tommy who doesn’t even know his best friend’s a queer and just wants to have a friend, or Susan who didn’t know what she was signing up for when she said I do. 

Still, making that choice, deciding to take the worst of his father's rage for everyone else and still not seeing an ounce of empathy or concern thrown his way put a bitter taste in his mouth. At this point it was like, why even bother keeping up the sacrifice? Nobody appreciates all the pain he goes through to protect them, why not just be good?

Because it wasn’t just for them. 

If Neil knew his son wasn’t manly and brave and cocky and cool like everyone thought he was, Billy was sure he’d already be six feet under. The act had saved his ass on more than one occasion, when tears fell from his eyes and accusations of being a dainty fairy started to fly, the leather jackets and the metalhead music and the fucking cologne on his balls kept Neil from going too far. It was a counterbalance sort of thing, because he could think of nothing else that would stop his dad from lashing out at everyone around him. 

So he knows how he acts is wrong, but he doesn’t know what else to do, what else could stop Neil. Unless somebody would just grow a pair and put Neils sorry ass in prison, then things wouldn’t have to be this way. 

But it was that way, the cops didn’t believe Billy when he was 10 and innocent, let alone now that he’s just some washed up trouble maker, and Neil kept up a pristine reputation among the communities they lived in, so nothing was done.

Everyday the line between who he actually was and who he needed to be to survive and to protect those around him from that monster got blurrier and blurrier. 

So here he was, listening to the dumb katydids in the trees keeping him awake, chain smoking and reflecting on his choices, some of the most recent and very poor ones sticking out in his mind's eye. 

On Halloween, he’d almost killed a bunch of kids just to scare Max. Every night he thought about what would’ve happened if she hadn’t been quick enough pulling the wheel. Getting beat up by your daddy doesn’t excuse that, even if in his head he was just trying to teach Max a lesson. 

Then he’d broken her skateboard for talking to Lucas behind his back. That had actually been an accident, but he was still threatening to do it when it broke and he was still screaming at her. For trying to protect her from Neil, he sure did treat her just the same way his father did him. 

The icing on the cake was that the same night, he’d lost his cool and totally scared the hell out of everyone. Max is pissed about the skateboard and sneaks out of her room in the middle of the night, he doesn’t notice because she’s like 13, she doesn’t need a babysitter, Neil and Susan find out before he does, and there’s bruises on his back and a sore spot on his cheek and he can’t find the little twerp for the life of him. All her friends' parents have a different answer for where the kids are, and when he finally finds them they’re under the supervision of a random teenager unrelated to any of them in a strangers house. 

Now, when they moved here, Susan had been concerned about the area, she’d heard trafficking was bad in the Midwest compared to their sunny California, but Neil had told her it’d be fine. As Billy pushed his way into that house that night, he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t. One of the kids that was supposed to be there was missing, the one who’s house they were in, is just, gone, and he can only think the worst. His thirteen year old sister is being prostituted or some shit and he’s kind of freaking out, and he turns it around on Lucas. 

Lucas, who hadn’t done anything wrong but be a kid, but who had been warned about hanging out with Max, and had now gotten her involved in some kiddie porn thing, and Neil was going to kill him and he’s fucking terrified. Then he’s in a fucking fist fight with Steve Harrington, who he’d thought was just the somewhat dopey leader of the basketball team, but was apparently leading whatever the fuck this operation is and lying to him about it. 

He wins the fight and he almost kills Steve, thinks he has every reason to if his suspicions are correct, but Max picks up some random syringe, which, again, he’s convinced would only be necessary if they were drugging and selling out these kids, and fucking stabs him with it. He doesn’t remember anything else, but he knows Max has gotten a lot cockier around him and the other kids hated him like, a thousand times more.

There’s still the creeping feeling in the back of his mind that there’s something else going on, but he didn’t want to be like that again. He’d already known he’d crossed the line to being too much like Neil, but that night had really cemented it in his head, and he regretted all of it. A thousand different things could’ve played out, and he’s pretty sure that because of him, the worst of all possible scenarios had occurred, and he wished he could go back. 

But he couldn’t, so he tried to apologize, but Max wouldn’t hear it. He’d been halfway through saying he was sorry when she’d opened the car door and stomped away, slamming it shut in his face. That was fair, he deserved that, but he wished so desperately that there was something he could do. 

He guessed his problem was just, keeping doing what he knew was wrong until it was too late, and then not knowing how to like, change from that. Just apologizing meant nothing at this point and he knew it, but he hadn’t meant for this to go on for so long. Which also meant he sure as hell didn’t know how to fix it. 

It made him feel hopeless, being caught between so many different expectations, especially when he realized that he had set most of them for himself. He was a monster of his own making, and he would have to own up to that before anyone would forgive him. 

——

Things never really work out for Billy. 

The instant things start to look better, Neil would do something that set his son back to the start of it, and he’d screw things up with Max and her friends all over again like clockwork. 

It felt like he would always be trapped alone with the quaintness of Indiana, locked up in the confines of his bedroom, unable to break the cycle of abuse.

He never expects that statement to be as true as it is. 

Glass shatters, he panics, tires squeal, he loses control, broken ribs, he can’t breathe. In and out, he can’t remember, chemical burns, his face and his throat and his chest burn like fire, fades to black, what did he do? It hurts, he’s sorry, burning heat, he didn't do it, it hurts. Gun fire, he floors it, fireworks, he wants it to end, seven feet, he was happy, blood on the tiles, he’s not gonna make it. 

Billy Hargrove dies on the Fourth of July, 1985. 

He doesn’t get the chance to move on, doesn’t get to prove his father wrong, or ever have the chance to live his own life. 

There’s no turn around in his young life to get back on the right path and leave behind his trauma, to be better than what his abuser did to him. He’ll never see his mom, or his home or his sister ever again. 

He doesn’t have the chance to make it up to Lucas or Susan or Steve or Tommy or Max. Or to escape the mindset he’d been raised into so he could be free and safe and happy again. 

Billy’s last words are an apology to his sister. He chokes on his own blood, or maybe not his own, he’s not sure, and he goes out of this world at only 18 years old, a monster of his own making.

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of out of nowhere and honestly a result of me procrastinating all the work I’m supposed to be doing but! Here’s this! I’ve been feeling pretty :-( not pleased with the way Billy’s character was handled and very disappointed that so many people think death is necessary for redemption! It’s not, and this is sort of my thoughts on that.


End file.
